Please No

This story is from the very early days of their relationship. Nick knows nothing. 

Izzie's fingers, now done with caressing Nick's cheek, slide into his thick hair. She struggles not to pull on his curls too hard. Beats her, how a simple act of caressing one's hair is considered an encouragement. She hates a hand on her head whilst she bestows the hand owner with a blowie. But Nick doesn't mind, and  he definitely doesn't need any encouragement.

A stray thought shots through Izzie's agonizing brain, who knew that Nick is so good at... How many women out there know, in a very biblical sense, that Nick eats pussy like a pro? With each lick, bite, tug, and swift circle, he quickly ascends to the top of her personal eat-it-like-you-mean-it list.

He doesn't waste any fingers. While the palm of his hand applies some delicious pressure on her mound, the fingers spread the pink lips wide open for his tongue to dive in. The fingers of his other hand sink in and out, following the tempo of some heavenly song. He cautiously circled around her back door once, and she shook his hand off from there. Not all at once, Mister. Leave something for the next date. But that was the only time she intervened in his proceedings. Magnifique, he was simply magnifique.

She didn't notice how her usual 'please please please' mantra became audible, and seconds later interlaced with no's.

"Please no please no."

Screeching halt. All digits and tongue withdrawn at once, he jerks away too fast, dragging his stubble against the sensitive skin of her thigh. The burn is surprisingly pleasant, but not the feeling of the cold air where his face was just a moment ago.

"Why did you stop?" she pants.

"You said, no." The sound of his voice comes from somewhere awfully close. She opens her eyes, and, bam, he is staring at her, like a deer in the headlights, his worrisome eyes just a few inches away from hers.

"I didn't mean it," she mumbles. "Go back." She nudges his head down.

"Wait, wait a minute. What do you say when you do mean it?"

"I doubt we'll ever get there." She muses, pushing away a forgotten memory. But no, he doesn't buy it, still waiting for an answer. "Don Quixote."

"Is this some kind of a safe word?" Nick asks. 

"Yes," she nods. "It's my safe word." That was not safe enough, her memory reminds her. The safe word that was discarded, disregarded, violated. That night that broke her, send her running for the hills, and eventually, to this island. That changed everything, and most of all, her ability to trust, to put herself in the hands of the other, guarded only by one little word that draws the line between whatever they do and abuse. Since then, years past but she never tried again: to trust. 

Whatever Nick sees in her face, he freezes, but it doesn't stop him from asking more. "Did you ever have to use it?" 

And she can't, she simply can't admit, the shame, the betrayal, the failure she felt. How later she got caught up in a lie. It's so much easier to invent a lie, even only to herself, than to admit the inexplicable. So she repeats the same lie. 

"I consented." 

Pink Red Purple

It's Monday morning, seven-thirty, to be exact. Nick just tied the shoelaces of his black Oxfords, one of six almost identical pairs. Now he is back on his feet, checking in the mirror if the shirt is tucked in properly, his fingers running along the belt. No, the other belt, obviously. Izzie's dreadful brown belt, as Nick calls it, that they use for spankings, or whippings, if you want to be anal about the spanking terms, is safely hidden on the highest shelf of their walk-in closet. 

He puts on the suit jacket and glances again at the marble-top central island. Seven pink cards, cut from heavy cardstock, with the days of the week written in Izzie's calligraphic handwriting, stare back at him. "Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday," Nick recites with a fake Italian accent and considers for a second to switch the cards in the true Apollonia's order. Would Her Highness mind? Nick picks out to check on the Princess. 

Izzie's long hair spread like a halo on the white of the pillow that in her sleep she pulled almost to the middle of the bed. The contours of her body barely visible under the fluffy duvet. Asleep! Nick tiptoes back to the closet. 

Switching weekdays might slide under the radar but not Sunday and Saturday, and Nick quickly rearranges the cards back in the proper order. He opens Izzie's underwear drawer and focuses at the task at hand, to choose her panties for the upcoming week. 

Last weekend they put each other through a wringer, an unnecessary wringer. One thing led to another, one implement followed the next one. And now, Monday morning, Nick is scared to check on her arse! Izzie doesn't mark or bruise easily, except that time when she almost stepped in front of the car and he yanked her by her forearm. Those fingerprints were quite a sight to remember, went through all the colours of the rainbow. Something Nick is not looking forward to repeat, especially with her lovely bum. One thing is to turn it pink and then red that would fade fairly quickly, Nick is not ready to see any purple. If we are speaking in colour metaphors, they are not black and blue people, at least, not Nick.

He picks three identical pairs of lace panties in purple, red, and pink, and lays them under Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Then he picks a pair of white eyelet bikinis with small pink rosebuds for Thursday and a white thong for Friday. And nothing for Saturday and Sunday. Here! Does it send the message loud and clear, that in all likelihood, there will be no spanking till Friday? Oh, the pouting he will have to endure.

"Are you choosing my panties?" calls the sleepy voice from the bedroom.

"Indeed. Go back to sleep." Nick comes over for a goodbye kiss.

"Are there any pink ones?" Bollocks! She's fully awake.

"Yes, go back to sleep," Nick repeats more sternly.

"What if I won't?" 

"Firstly, we agreed that bratting is disrespectful, especially under such circumstances. You're trying to make me late, aren't you? Add it to your Friday list." 

"Friday? Do you mean no spankings till Friday?" That pouting.

"Wanna make it the Friday after?" Nick raises an eyebrow.

"Nicky!"

"Who's Nicky? Three weeks."

"No, sir! I will be a good girl. I will wear all the panties you chose for me."

"What about bratting?"

" I won't brat, sir. Will you spank me this Friday, please?"

"I might reconsider," Nick suppresses a smirk. "Are you asking me to spank you on Friday?"

"Yes, sir, please!"

"Go back to sleep." Izzie buries her head in the pillows. "Good girl." Nick smiles, they don't call him the best negotiator for nothing. 

EDIT: I do not like the ending, so part 2 is coming up to rectify this accidental mind fuck. Nick seems to be manipulative and ignoring Izzie's needs, which he is not. 

Posting to Saturday Spanking Blog, in hope that Headmistress Blake will be pleased with this entry:

There You Go!

Joking for the sake of stalling

Spanking for the sake of crying

How to explain the calling 

Truthfully, without lying 

Need for pain and need for kneeling

Matched with power and will

Thrashing that unleashes healing

Kicking high or holding still

Letting go, not letting down 

'Hurt no harm' is not a game

Longing for the words that bound

Willingly submitted, tamed

Sweat or tear on lacy eyelet 

Giving lashes takes its toll

Long and hard to blissful scarlet

There you go, baby doll

As always, when a new story just brewing in my head, I turn to poetry. Do you like reading or writing poetry?  

What about buzzwords? What are your favourites?

Strawberry Filled Forever

Happy Strawberry-filled Croissant Day! 🍓

Because what can brighten your Sunday morning more than a freshly baked croissant filled with cream and strawberries, hmm?

Funny how this image singlehandedly brings together my two favourite characters: Nick loves strawberries, and Izzie can kill for a proper croissant.

Any Beatles fans out there? 

PSA: Devlin O'Neill's old blog

 

HUGE THANKS to Hermione for unearthing the snapshot of Devlin O'Neill's old blog: CLICK HERE on Way Back Machine.

Many pictures were not preserved by the captures, but the posts are there. I truly hope that someone did manage to make a backup of the old site before it went down, and really wonder if it can be hosted again. 

Every time I see Devlin's name on someone's blogroll, I try it and, of course, that French website comes up. Silly me! I heard that the domain was not renewed or sold, not sure. But wouldn't it be great in Devlin's bright memory, In Memoriam, to resurrect the latest incarnation of his blog? Even if it would be a different website, I'm sure all the major blogs will gladly put it on their blog rolls or archive links.

So many miss Devlin or, like me, just heard of him, because were late to the party. I've never seen the actual blog, today was the first time. And boy, did I cry real tears...

As far as the blogs go, I'm nobody. My blog gets almost no traffic. But if only... this idea will get picked up by someone who knew him and make it happen. 

Just my two virtual cents, but if a contribution of real dollars and cents will be needed, such a GoFundMe campaign won't take long.

Too many blogs disappeared in the last year. Let's bring back at least one.

Pigtails Spanking Story: Bloody Green (Revisited)

Nick stands in the bathroom doorway with a toothbrush in his mouth, staring at the back of Izzie’s head that sticks just above the couch. With her straight spine, long neck, her hair in two high pigtails rolled into mini buns on the top of her head, she does look like a meerkat, not as horny now as before but still always ready to go.

He watched her, the whole process. How first she split all her her in two and made high ponytails. Nick noticed how loose her hair was, that he could easily slide his hand underneath the hair tie, close to her scalp, how safe it would be to pull her hair like that. They both enjoyed hair pulling as a kink, one on the giving, the other one the receiving end. And recently discussed how hair pulling gone wrong could lead to the most horrendous of consequences, including snapping one's neck. Not on Nick's watch, of course, but seeing Izzie putting an extra effort to make it easier for him was endearing.

She braided each ponytail into a scrawny but long pigtail. What a disastrous name for something so innocent and sweet! Then she rolled each pigtail into a bun and secured the loose end under the same hair tie. There we go, the meerkat look unknowingly accomplished.

Now Izzie stares at her phone screen, and Nick tiptoes and peeks over her shoulder: it's their latest banter.

Izzie:

Bathroom before bedtime?

                        Nicky:

                         Sure.

I want more rough.

                        Rougher. I want more brattiness.

Screw you.

                        You. Gladly.

Nick tiptoes back to his post at the bathroom door, it's time to get the show on the road. He takes the toothbrush out and clears his throat. No reaction from the meerkat beside a small jerk of her head, the one you bestow on an annoying fly. He wishes he could nuzzle into that soft spot on her neck, but, no, this has to wait, he has a job to do first. Nick whistles softly, and Izzie turns around with a frown.

"Did you just whistle?" she scoffs aghast.

"Uh-huh," he grins.

"Care to explain?"

"Feels better than to text you. I'm going to bed."

"Yeah. And?" Someone ordered more brattiness? Bring it on.

Nick disappears in the bathroom to rinse his mouth. "You have ten minutes to turn in. As per our rules, remember?" He reappears with a towel, wiping his face.

"And if I won't, what will you do? Let it slip again?"

"Watch it, young lady!"

"You watch it. I'm reading."

"No electronics before bedtime. Eight minutes."

"Alright, alright, I'm up!" She brushes against him on her way, nudging him out with the bathroom door.

Nick waits till he hears the toilet flushing and opens the door again. "Someone needs an attitude adjustment, don't you think?"

"I'm here, it's eight minutes. Duh!"

"I said, attitude. Maybe to give you a little taste of how it will feel like, when I won't let it slip, as you graciously worded my shortcomings." He sinks his hand in her hair and tugs her head up, forcing her to look at his reflection in the mirror. "Colour?"

"Green."

“Green who?” Nick quirks an eyebrow.

“Green, sir,” Izzie corrects herself quickly. No hesitation here.

Nick releases the pigtails from their hair tie prison. Izzie pouts in silence.

"I want to see them sway, the pigtails, when I spank you." Nick nudges a pigtail to swing like a pendulum. Izzie gasps, and Nick pauses to let it sink. For the first time ever, he did something for himself. The swaying pigtails, that was for him only, for his viewing pleasure. And Izzie's tiny but triumphant gasp only confirmed the significance of this moment.

He folds her arms on the vanity top, and pushes her shoulders down till they land on her arms, while his other hand peels off her shorty shorts and white lace panties. Smack! The pigtails bounce as on cue.

He bends over to whisper in her ear. "I will tan your hide regardless, but will it be the good girl tanning or the bad girl's?"

"Good girl, please."

"As you wish."

In her three-inch espadrilles and shoulder wide stance, her small bum sticks up high in the air. Nick kicks her feet back closer together with his foot, always thinking forward, not to hit accidentally between her legs, only to confirm how impossibly different he is. He sets into an unrelenting pattern of an open hand swat and squeeze, swat and squeeze.

"I don't think that will do, because you were not a good girl today.” Smack! “You were a complete brat, that is.” A harder smack! “A very disrespectful brat." He pauses to rummage through the vanity drawers and picks up a hairbrush.

"No, not the brush," she jerks away. The hairbrush reminds her of the self-spanking days, not a trigger but kind of off-limits. Ah, what the hell, it was worth a try to add some spice to their otherwise orchestrated scene, thanks so very much.

Smack! "Are you telling me what to do?" He promptly drops the hairbrush back in the drawer and slams it shut. "Bad girls don't get to choose." Smack! "Bad girls get what they deserve. Hold it there."

Nick leaves and comes back with the belt. Izzie rises up while locking eyes with him in the mirror, gleefully in sync, and he pushes her shoulders down again. He keeps his left hand on the back of her neck, with both pigtails in his fist. 

"Colour?"

"Bloody green." Izzie grits her teeth.

"Blood is actually red." Nick tugs at the pigtails. "Let's try it again. Colour?"

"Green, sir." Gulps down. Eyes down. Ready...

All said and done, they are in a so familiar embrace. Nick perks on the wide edge of the tub with Izzie curled up on his lap. He pulls a plush towel from the towel warmer on the wall and wraps her in it.

"Thank you, sir." Izzie murmurs into his chest.

"Hope the thanks were for the warm towel." Nick tries to weed out the hair ties with one hand, without pulling on her hair. He chokes on that thought, how careful he is now, not to cause any extra pain, after what he just did to her.

"You know they weren't." There is so much love and tenderness in her voice, her soft embrace. It breaks and melts his heart in the most unexplainable way.

"Can you drop it already?" Nick's fingers trail through Izzie's hair, unbraiding the pigtails into lush wavy curls, getting her ready for bed.

"You like your buzzwords and rituals, I like mine," Izzie says. A peaceful protest. Surprisingly, even in her post-spanking haze, Izzie stands her ground.

“Which bottle can I use?” Nick nods at the array of bottles and jars on Izzie’s side of the vanity. 

“Anything but that glass jar, it's an expensive face cream.”

“I think that's exactly what I will use. Your sore bum is no less important.” Nick hums contentedly their own Bottom Song to the tune of some long-forgotten lullaby, while rubbing the cream over her reddened cheeks. But the pause between the chorus lines is getting longer, his hand just hovers over her bum now. Nick, only surviving there, a wind-up toy with no juice left, the last splash of energy spent on moving them back in the bedroom to crash onto the bed.

"It's over, Nicky. It's all good. You did so well. I'm so proud of you." Izzie coos as she strokes his hair, caresses his stubble, traces his eyebrow.

"We are not normal, aren't we? Isn't it I'm who's supposed to praise you?" he sighs with a little glint, a sure indication that he’s coming back to life.

She reaches under the covers to check on him. More of a perfunctory check to switch his mind to what's coming next. "Mmm, you're ready for the fun part." She reaches over for the lube bottle and puts tons of it on her bum hole, the only place between her legs that's not wet yet.

A whiff of strawberries with some flowery undertone hits his nose. "What's that smell?"

"Strawberry lavender. You like strawberries, I like lavender, so I made the lube myself." 

"You made it??" This woman will never seize to surprise him.

"It's not a rocket science, you know," she shrugs off his question. "Just added some oils for the scent. I should run a workshop, make your own lube."

"Please don't," his voice finally soft and calm. "By the way, oils are not safe for condoms."

"Thanks for the PSA, Mister Know-it-all." Izzie rolls her eyes. "I made it for us. Ready?"

His eyes squint in a jubilant smirk. "I'm not done with you, pigtails girl. Hands and knees. Now!"

My apologies to those who read the original version. I wanted to elaborate on pigtails and hair pulling plot. Also, if anyone knows the author of this magnificent painting, please let me know, I will gladly add the credit.

EDIT: thank you, JM! The painting is: Bound(2014) by Ray Caesar

To Molly, thank you for the inspiration. This story was dead without the proper pigtails.

EDIT: Also, submitting to Saturday Spankings Blog because it was a hectic week IRL. Hopefully Headmistress Blake will not be too harsh and forgive my audacity.

How it works

I've been in a bit of a hiatus, since I finished the A to Z challenge, it sucked too much energy out of me. Probably I should stop apologizing for the lack of proper posts.

So, Molly's Kiss, or more specifically, her Kink of the Week is hosting a theme right now, Pigtails, that I can relate to. I thought of writing something new for it, but again, the creative juices were running low. And then I recalled one of my old spanking stories that was fine in my opinion, but didn't get enough love from you, my lovelies. I thought I would resurrect it with some editing.

Low and behold, that old story already had two pigtails rolled into mini buns on top of Izzie's head, that made her look like a meerkat. That's a start! Then I thought I will add some proper hair pulling, which I also like as a kink. Maybe Nick will unroll the buns back into pigtails or order Izzie to do it. But I needed some reason, something. 

So, here I am, on my walk. By the way, I'm writing this post from the park bench. And I see a runner, with a huge high ponytail, gorgeous hair, swaying with every step, like a horse's tail. And it hit me, that's it, that's what was missing:

"I want to see them sway, when I spank you, the pigtails," Nick says. 

Alphabet Spanking Story: all chapters

There was so much spanking going on in my stories during the A to Z month. Putting them all in order and in one place. (Work in progress) 

Alphabet Spanking Story: all chapters

G is for Going, Going, Gone Nick wanted a quiet evening but pregnant Izzie didn't eat again. An unexpected revelation changes the course of this long long night. 

"What should I do about it? Don't answer," he holds a hand up. "That was a rhetorical question. The incentive, right?" Izzie nods again. "Will you eat after?" 

"After after." Which means after the spanking, the aftercare, and the fucking. The whole trifecta. 

H is for Humiliation and Humility Oof! That's some naughty chapter! 

He takes everything to the next level today, fiddling with a new toy, a foxtail butt plug. The plug itself is a medium size, much smaller than his dick, but, hey, it's stainless steel and probably cold. 

"Do you know what it is?" Nick watches like a hawk when she presses her legs together and clenches her butt in anticipation. 

"A foxtail." 

"No, my dear. It's a reminder of who's in charge here."

I is for Izzie's first caning Nick got a new toy chest, full of new... toys.

"It's a real cane, Nick. It's not a game." 

"I know. I've been practicing." He twirls his fingers in the air in a universal 'turn around, missy' gesture. He folds the tail up and tucks it under the tight top to get it out of the way. 

L is for Licks and Lust

M is for Morning and Marks and Middle of the night 

N is for Nothing

T is for Tears and Taken

 

U is for Upsy-daisy Nick gives Izzie the hard spanking she craves. To tears.

"You say upsy-daisy when you pick me up," she repeats. "You always pick me up and put me together. Upsy-daisy." 

W is for What you Want Nick watches Izzie sleep and recalls the events of last night. Izzie wakes up in tears: Nick didn't fuck her after the spanking.

Exhausted, she drank some lukewarm orange juice through a straw that Nick held for her, asked for the fluffy socks, took a deep breath interrupted by a hiccup, and fell asleep. Just like a Sleeping Beauty. Damn it, Izzie said to never use that expression as it reminds her of the other book and not to Google it either. So far he kept the promise.

X is for Xanadu Izzie learns a new word. Nick learns she has a blog. 

"Or I will go Xanadu on your arse." Empty threats go well with snorts and giggles. 

Z is for Zingy Nick and Izzie discuss all things zingy over the breakfast. Merguez vs bacon, leather vs wood. 

"You know I hate wood, except your morning wood," she nods royally in the direction of his lap and royally doesn't bat an eye at the treacherous twitch."

Also from A to Z:

Standalone stories:

Poems:

V is for Vanilla

Holding wrists is a type of bondage

Roleplay bound are Santa and elf

Naked Red, in Halloween homage, 

Riding Wolfie, is C-M-N-F

A to Z - The Best of

The A to Z Reflections day was yesterday, but I thought I would allow myself a day off. Actually "off" time started on Sunday night, no longer under the pressure to post for the next letter, I binged on this new show, The Diplomat, and then again last night. Highly recommend, kind of a mix of Veep and Newsroom, with a sprinkle of Downton Abbey. Fast paced, lots of people with lovely English accents, not enough smut for my taste, but, hey, it was my time off! Now, back to A to Z.

How I got to do A to Z challenge?

As many things in my life by a happy accident. Mrs Fever mentioned that she is about to start it, it piqued my interest. So I clicked, I googled around, and, gasp, I signed up. It seems like a good challenge, to post every day. Silly me! Read my pre-challenge post  A to Z. That was on March 20.

What actually happened?

Somewhere around letter E, E is for Enter, I realized I should get off the high horse, trying to educate vanilla people, there's tons of blogs better than mine, and Bonnie already covered every topic imaginable and more than once. I should write what I like the most, spanking fiction set in Izzie-and-Nick verse, and not using the snippets of what I've already written, but to be a good girl and produce new spanking content every single bloody night!!

What was the turning point?

Definitely letter G, G is for Going, Going, Gone which became the first installment of a multichapter spanking story that later I started to call the Alphabet story, and continued all the way to letter Z is for Zingy, . Click on the archive for April. Besides the parts marked as part of Birching Bordello story and a couple of poems, all other posts are in fact the chapters of the Alphabet story. Pinky promise, I will organize all the links in one post!

Why was it so hard?

I felt committed, so committed. No matter what was going on IRL, I had to produce the next post by midnight and schedule it for the early morning. Sometimes I didn't have time to edit, to hone, to polish, to rethink. The last few were especially hard, like X is for Xanadu  or U is for Upsy-Daisy. I’m insanely proud of myself for making it to the end and producing original content every single night, like a clock.

What did I learn?

I learned that I can be trained as a Pavlovian dog to write on demand. Sometimes, especially the last week, I didn't have time to edit, to hone, to polish, to rethink. Honestly, for the first time in my writing life, I would sit in front of the screen or mostly with the phone in my hand, and wouldn't know what I will write about. I knew I had to pick up from the events of last chapter, but didn't know where will the road take me. That was the most exciting part!

Like in the movies, when the author sits in front of a typewriter and types in full sentences, paragraphs of text, a stream of conscience but in the very much plausible form. That's what I did, and the feeling was incredible. 

Looking back I can't believe some of the lines I came up with.

What to read?

"You say upsy-daisy when you pick me up," she repeats. "You always pick me up and put me together. Upsy-daisy." (from U is for Upsy-daisy)

"No one will come to rescue you, damsel in distress. Isn't that what you fantasize about?" (from H is for Humiliation)

"Sorry, love. I was debating, which apology would insult you more, for wearing you in or out?" (from N is for Nothing)

"No! Stingy is zingy, thuddy is cruddy." (from Z is for Zingy)

The jitters that keep me reeling
Wanting scream, fight, come, or break
Into million pieces, are peeling
Layers, onion layers of fake  

(from J is for Jitters or Ode to Cane)

Izzie is still bent over, knees on the couch, naked from the waist down. Her face, turned away from him, lies atop of the couch’s back. She spits out the words in a hurry. But all Nick sees is her pregnant belly, hanging there, presumably safe. And her wobbly knees.

“Do... do you want me to build a pillow fort?” (from C is for Crying and Corner and not the Cane)

Last night Nick didn't follow on any on his empty threats. He didn't give her the six of the best or draw a five-barred gate as he promised. Gasp! That most dreaded stroke across the first five, crossing the lines, that is considered  a cardinal sin by some and the intentional evil-doing by the others. (from M is for Morning and Marks and Middle of the night)

"So today, with the help of my little lie detector," he tugs at the fox tail. "And the cane," he taps her cheeks with the cane, and she jerks away. "I will get to the bottom of it. If required, a bright red bottom with some perfectly parallel stripes. Told you, I've been practicing."  (from L is for Licks and Lust)

"After we are done with all the unpleasantries of your punishment, yes, Isabel, I will forgive you. That's how it works, darling, you've most surely heard of it. You will be back on my lap, rather uncomfortable, I must say, but much happier. Until your next shortcoming, hopefully not as disastrous as the current one." (from P is for Punishment or Birching Bordello part 3)

"It's embarrassing." She dutifully slides her hands off, clutching at the shawl around her neck. 

"And you know any spanking that isn't?" (from Y is for Yellow or Birching Bordello part 6)

Enough with the self-indulgent trip down the memory lane!

Please don't forget to comment, I would love to hear back from you, even anonymously.

Z is for Zingy

 

Wow! It's the very last letter of the A to Z challenge, I can't believe I made it. It was fun while it lasted, a very exhausting and stimulating fun. I learned to write on demand, late at night, knowing I need to come up with original content by midnight. 

Thank you to all who came here to read through my April journey! 

My apologies, I kept writing two long stories during A to Z challenge, the Birching Bordello story and the Alphabet story (this one). Promise, I will put together all the links in the Spanking stories, so it's will be easier to read in order.

This snippet is part of the Alphabet story, comes immediately after X is for Xanadu.

Z is for Zingy

Izzie shuffles semi-comfortably on Nick's bony knee. He spared her thighs, as he always does, but not completely this time. Some extra strokes for swearing, clenching, and arguing in general, did some damage to her future sitting pleasure, and now she wriggles from time to time, causing Nick to bite his lower lip and blush.

"Please dip the merguez in the yolk," she waves at the plate to distract him from their sitting arrangement.

"You mean your weird lamb sausage?" Nick chuckles, as he follows the specific instructions. "Here comes the airplane". A fork with a piece of the sausage dipped in yolk approaches Izzie's lips.

"It's flavourful and zingy." Her usual manners out of the window, hungry Izzie talks with her mouth full. "Not dull as your bacon, just empty calories."

"Bacon is salty and crunchy," Nick picks a forkful from his own plate.

"It has no zing. Take these roasted tomatoes, that's pure umami, the zing of life."

"Pray tell, what else is zingy?" Nick is too busy to feed Her Highness with as much food as possible. 

"The belt, of course. Threatening, punishing, exciting, all at once."

"What about the cane?" 

"We can be frenemies, with time. Definitely, zingy." 

"Hairbrush?" 

"No! Stingy is zingy, thuddy is cruddy."

"Is that so?"

"You know I hate wood, except your morning wood," she nods royally in the direction of his lap and royally doesn't bat an eye at the treacherous twitch. "And the furniture, some of it, not this hideous abomination." Izzie gestures at the rest of the room, and in the process she kicks the fork out of Nick's hand. The egg with tomato lands on the hem of his shirt she's wearing. Izzie jerks to stand up, Nick holds her down.

"Don't you dare to get up!" He picks the offending pieces off his shirt with a napkin and continues with the feeding frenzy. 

"But.." 

"No buts, except yours, which is off limits for the foreseeable future. Hence twenty-five lines of, umm, 'I will not wear Nick's dress shirts to breakfast.' Go on with your zing speech." 

"I can't." The ruined shirt and the prospect of writing lines instead of a spanking take the wind out of her sails. 

"Come on, I like it. Everyone needs some zing in their life." Nick nudges her mouth open with the next piece. 

"Yes," Izzie nods. "We all subconsciously pick something that excites us, the zing." 

"You picked me." Nick grins at the memory. 

"Uh-huh, at the bar, slow night."

Nick doesn't hesitate to deliver a hefty smack on her sore bottom with his free hand. 

"Ouch! What was that for?" Izzie reaches to rub, but Nick pins her wrist to the small of her back. 

"Say it, you picked me." Nick raises an eyebrow, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. 

"Ok ok, yes, I picked you. Happy?" 

"Quite. Not as happy and zingy as I will be after you'll finish writing twenty-five times, 'I will be grateful and respectful when someone gives me a compliment.'"

"Was there a compliment?" 

"Yes, of course, for your great taste, in picking me." His eyes twinkle again with a kind smile spreading across his lips. 

"Do I still need to write lines for the shirt?" 

"Of course. I do not give away rain cheques for zingy spankings, do I?" 

Goodbye, A to Z challenge!